[41] Breaking point

The countdown to launch day was officially on. We were a week away from going live, and the pressure was mounting. Investors were hovering, excitement was building, and the team was working around the clock to make sure everything was perfect. From the outside, things seemed to be running smoothly—better than smoothly, really. The platform had been built, the marketing was in place, and the buzz was growing every day.

But inside, I was falling apart.

It wasn't that I didn't believe in the platform—I did. It was just that it no longer felt like mine. Every meeting, every decision, every step forward felt like I was being pushed further and further out of the circle. The elite team Vanessa had put together had taken the reins, and no matter how much they assured me that I was still in control, I knew the truth. I was a figurehead, a name on the project, nothing more.

And I couldn't take it anymore.

We were in the middle of yet another meeting in Vanessa's home office, the team gathered around the table, laptops open, whiteboards filled with diagrams and timelines. I sat at the head of the table, my hands clenched into fists under the table as I listened to Samantha go over the final details of the launch strategy. It was all so polished, so efficient—everything was falling into place exactly as they had planned.

But none of it felt like my plan. None of it felt like my company anymore.

"And that brings us to the final point," Samantha said, her voice smooth and professional as always. "We'll be rolling out the ad campaign three days before launch, to build hype. We've got influencers lined up, and the PR team is ready to handle any last-minute issues."

The team nodded in agreement, all smiles and satisfaction. I stared down at the table, the words buzzing in my ears but not really registering.

"Tristan," Samantha said, turning to me with that same polite smile, "everything's on track. Do you have anything you want to add?"

That was it. The tipping point. Something inside me snapped, and before I could stop myself, the words came pouring out.

"I can't fucking do this anymore."

The room went dead silent. Everyone turned to look at me, confusion and surprise written all over their faces. Samantha blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

I stood up, my heart pounding, my hands shaking with frustration. "I mean, I can't fucking do this anymore. This... this isn't my company. This isn't what I signed up for."

Marco frowned, leaning forward slightly. "Tristan, what are you talking about? We're about to launch. Everything's going according to plan."

"Your plan," I shot back, my voice rising. "Not mine. None of this is mine anymore! You guys have taken over everything. Every idea I come up with gets shot down. Every decision gets made without me. I'm just sitting here, watching you all run the show, and I'm fucking done with it."

Rachel exchanged a nervous glance with Samantha before speaking up. "Tristan, we've been working as a team. We're all trying to make this the best it can be—"

"A team?" I interrupted, my voice bitter. "Really? Because it doesn't feel like a team to me. It feels like I'm the fucking figurehead, and you guys are the ones actually calling the shots."

Samantha held up her hands, trying to calm me down. "Tristan, no one's trying to push you out. We've been working together to make sure this company succeeds. You're still the founder—"

"Am I?" I snapped, pacing the room. "Because it sure as hell doesn't feel like it. I can't remember the last time one of my ideas actually made it through without getting 'adjusted' or 'refined.' Every time I try to take control, you guys just placate me and do whatever the fuck you want anyway."

Samantha's voice was calm, but there was a hint of tension in her tone now. "We've been guiding you, Tristan. We're here to help you make the right decisions."

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Help me? You're controlling me. You've been running this show from the start, and I've just been standing in the background, pretending like I'm still in charge. But I'm not. I haven't been in charge of this company for months, and I can't do it anymore."

Marco stood up, trying to intervene. "Look, man, we're all in this together. We want this to succeed just as much as you do."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "You want it to succeed your way. Not mine."

Samantha took a step forward, her expression softening. "Tristan, I understand you're frustrated, but we're about to launch. We've come this far together. You don't want to throw all of that away now."

I turned to face her, my chest tight with anger and exhaustion. "That's exactly what I want to do. I can't keep pretending like this is my company when it's not. I don't even recognize this platform anymore. It's everything you guys wanted it to be, not what I wanted."

Rachel frowned, looking genuinely concerned. "Are you saying... you want to quit?"

I let out a long, shaky breath. "Yes. I'm saying I'm done. I'm fucking done. I'm quitting."

The room fell silent again, the weight of my words hanging in the air like a bomb waiting to go off. Samantha looked stunned, her usually composed expression cracking for a moment.

"Tristan," she said quietly, "you don't mean that. You've worked so hard to get here."

I shook my head, feeling the anger and frustration boiling over. "I'm done, Samantha. I'm tired of fighting for control over something that's supposed to be mine. You can take the company. You already have, anyway."

Marco stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Tristan, we can fix this. We can make changes. You don't need to do anything drastic."

"I'm not doing anything drastic," I said, my voice steady now. "I'm taking back my life. You can have the company. I don't want it anymore."

Samantha opened her mouth to say something, but I didn't give her the chance. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing. As I stepped outside into the cool evening air, I felt a strange sense of relief wash over me.

I was done. Finally, fucking done.

***

The ride back to Vanessa's mansion felt like it took forever, but I barely noticed the streets of LA slipping past the windows. My mind was spinning, replaying everything that had happened in that meeting. I had just quit the company—my company—and left it behind without even looking back. A part of me still couldn't believe I had done it. But another part of me—one I was only just beginning to understand—felt relieved. Like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

By the time Vaness's driver pulled into the driveway of her sprawling Beverly Hills mansion, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the perfectly manicured lawn. The mansion loomed in front of me, as imposing and beautiful as ever, but it didn't intimidate me like it used to. Now, it felt more like a place of refuge, somewhere I could finally breathe again.

I got out of the car and walked through the front doors, my footsteps echoing through the massive foyer. Vanessa was waiting for me in the living room, lounging on one of her sleek, modern couches, a glass of red wine in her hand. She looked up as I walked in, her dark eyes immediately locking onto mine. She could tell something was off just by looking at me.

"Tristan," she said softly, setting her glass down on the coffee table. "What happened?"

I let out a long breath, dropping my bag onto the floor and slumping onto the couch across from her. "I quit," I said, my voice hollow. "I fucking quit."

Vanessa's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't look shocked—more like she had been expecting something like this. She stood up, walking over to me and sitting beside me on the couch, her hand resting gently on my knee. "What do you mean, you quit? What happened?"

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the words to explain. "I couldn't take it anymore. That team you put together... they took over everything. Every idea I had, every decision I tried to make—it didn't matter. They were running the show. I wasn't in control anymore, Vanessa. And I just... I couldn't do it. So I left."

She frowned, her hand moving to my back, rubbing it gently. "You left the company? Just like that?"

I nodded, feeling the exhaustion hit me all at once. "Yeah. I didn't even take the shares. I just... walked out."

Vanessa's eyebrows shot up. "You didn't take the shares? Tristan, you built that company. You're entitled to—"

"I don't care," I cut her off, shaking my head. "I don't fucking care about the shares. I don't care about the company anymore. It's not mine. It hasn't been mine for a long time."

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching my face as if trying to gauge how serious I was. When she spoke again, her voice was soft but firm. "Do you want me to remove the team? I can fire them. We'll start over with new people, people who will actually listen to you."

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "No. Just let them sail it as it is. They've got it under control. They know what they're doing. It's their baby now, not mine."

Vanessa's hand stilled on my back, and she leaned in closer, her voice gentle. "Are you sure? You've worked so hard to build that company. I don't want you to walk away from something you've put your heart into just because the team wasn't listening."

I sighed, leaning back against the couch and staring up at the high ceiling. "It's not just about the team. It's about everything. I've been fighting for control since the beginning, but I was never really in charge. They've been steering the ship, and I've been sitting there, pretending like I had a say in anything. I can't keep pretending. I'm done with it, Vanessa. I'm fucking done."

She nodded slowly, her expression understanding. "I get it. I really do. It's hard to let go of something when you've worked so hard to make it happen. But if this is what you want—if you really want to let it go—I support you."

I turned to look at her, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me. Vanessa had always been there for me, even when things were falling apart. She had her own controlling tendencies, sure, but in this moment, she wasn't pushing me to do anything. She was just... there. Supporting me.

"Thank you," I said quietly, my voice thick with emotion. "I didn't know what else to do. I just couldn't keep going like that."

Vanessa smiled softly, her hand brushing a stray hair away from my forehead. "You don't have to explain. Sometimes, walking away is the bravest thing you can do. It doesn't mean you've failed. It just means you're choosing to take care of yourself."

I nodded, my throat tight. "It just feels like... I don't know. Like I'm a fucking coward for leaving. Like I couldn't handle it."

"You're not a coward," Vanessa said firmly, her eyes locking onto mine. "You're smart. You saw that the situation wasn't working for you, and you made the decision to walk away before it got worse. That's not cowardice. That's strength."

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear that—to hear someone tell me that leaving wasn't a sign of failure. That I hadn't just thrown everything away.

I let out a shaky breath, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. "I just... I don't know what to do next. I've put everything into this company, and now it's gone."

Vanessa placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch warm and grounding. "You don't have to figure everything out right now. You've just made a huge decision. Take some time to breathe, to think about what you really want. You've got the skills, Tristan. You can build something new. Something that's yours."

I looked over at her, feeling a small spark of hope flicker in my chest. "You really think so?"

She smiled, her eyes soft. "I know so. You're talented, Tristan. And more than that, you're passionate. You can build something incredible. And this time, you'll do it on your terms."

For the first time in what felt like weeks, I felt a sense of calm settle over me. Maybe Vanessa was right. Maybe I could start over. Build something that was truly mine, without the team, without the investors, without all the bullshit that had weighed me down.

"Thanks, Vanessa," I said, my voice sincere. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She laughed softly, leaning in to kiss my cheek. "You'd figure it out. But for now, just take it easy. You've earned it."

I leaned back against the couch, feeling the tension slowly melt away. I had walked away from the company, from everything I had built, but for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was drowning. I felt free.

Q: What would you do next?